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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26836828">Darktober 2020: TMNT Anthology</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaD/pseuds/LunaD'>LunaD</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood and Violence, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements, some disturbing stuff but nothing too bad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:20:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26836828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaD/pseuds/LunaD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of oneshots equally centered around the boys, featuring prompts from online and readers.<br/>Chapter 1: Transformation<br/>Chapter 2: Trapped, Drowning<br/>Chapter 3: Paranoia<br/>Chapter 4: Hunted<br/>Chapter 5: Unintended<br/>Chapter 6: ?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Liken to a Lycan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Wanted to try my hand at horror/suspense for October. If you have any prompts, feel free share! I don't have a set number or list, just however many I can do before Halloween.<br/>*Screw it. Every day is Halloween.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>“The beating undead heart of horror is the knowledge that bad things happen to good people.” - Karen Woodward</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grabbing the heavy stick in hand, Leonardo snuffed out the last of the flames. He watched the small orange embers dance up from the pit, intertwining like fireflies. Once he was sure their campfire would no longer be a danger to the forest, he turned to his brothers, who patiently waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone ready?” Leo asked with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raphael crossed his arms, mirroring the expression. “If you mean ready to see your sorry face when you have to clean up the farmhouse tomorrow, then yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello elbowed his brother playfully. “Come on Raph, you know the more you gloat, the more upset you get when you lose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Leonardo dropped his look, glancing around the forest. “Wait, where did Mikey go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The remaining brothers looked around, noting their orange sibling was indeed missing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was just here.” Raphael said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only indication they had of their brother’s presence was the far off echo of laughter emanating from the tree tops. Raphael growled, darting out into the brush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mikey, you twerp that’s cheating!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello took off after him, not wanting to skip out on the unexpected head start. Leo reached out, yelling at them that he hadn’t given the go ahead yet. However, it fell on deaf ears, causing Leo to sigh and shake his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess you can have a thirty second head start then.” He sat, resigned as he crossed his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several meters ahead, Michelangelo expertly weaved in and out of the branches. The dark leafy canopies of the New Hampton forests provided excellent camouflage for the green terrapins. The wind whipped his bandana around wildly as he kept pace. The autumn chilly air sent goosebumps down his arms. Once Mikey felt he had put a good distance between him and Leo, he set about his trap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a hollow divot in the trunk of the tree. Mikey tried to wedge himself in, but his shell was too wide. He huffed, annoyed at losing a perfectly good hiding spot. Instead, he gathered large piles of fallen leaves, leaving a few red herrings to distract Leo with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now satisfied, Mikey made a path to the hillside. The dried leaves blanketing the ground would make an excellent escape route if he used his shell like a sled. The cracking of a far off twig alerted Mikey that preparation time was over. Nimbly, he climbed back up the tree, using the height to look for any passerbys. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey held his breath, sniggering to himself as he imagined outwitting his brother. He craned his neck, risking his movement being caught in order to see better. The bright moonlight filtered through the branches, allowing sections of the forest floor to be visible in the darkest hours of night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the rustling of wind shake the leaves surrounding him, the cool autumn air sending another shiver down his spine. As fun as playing with his brothers was, it was getting too cold to be out without so much as a jacket. He just hoped that Leo would find the others quickly so that he could melt into a pile of turtle goo beside the fireplace back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey shook his head, trying to stay focused as he suddenly felt an overwhelming desire for hot cider and marshmallows. One of the leaves tumbled down, landing roughly on his face. He swatted it away with a yelp, quickly glancing around to see if anyone heard him. The constant crinkling of red and gold leaves made picking out nearby sounds harder, but Mikey managed to catch the hint of movement in the shadows between the tree trunks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently, he maneuvered down, readying himself to flee at a moment's notice. All he needed to do was stay still long enough for Leo to pass by him. Once he did, Mikey’s chances of winning became drastically better. He ground his teeth, refusing to be caught before Raphael. With the bold move he took in the beginning, there would be no way his brother would let him live it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey slunk down the trunk, peering around the edge of bark to catch Leo’s exact location. At first, the scenery was silent. The darkness encroached on every inch of the forest as a cloud passed over the moon. Even the east wind had stilled its hand. Mikey didn’t breath. He felt his senses heighten, ready to pick out any slight movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Mikey spotted him, the hunched shadow slowly craning forward, the curve in his back. Mikey held his breath, his heart hammered inside him. Then, suddenly everything left him, replaced only with annoyance. He stood up straight, having caught the slight tint of red on his face. Before Mikey realized what he was doing, he moved out from his hiding spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get lost Raph!” Mikey huffed, “I found this spot first, we’ll both be caught if your ugly mug stays here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brother shot up, taken off guard. His head whipped around to look at Mikey. Two glowing eyes stared back at him. Mikey felt his heart drop onto the forest floor. The color drained from his face. That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>his brother. Mikey stood frozen, staring at the large creature a few feet in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a hulking black mass, bigger than any forest animal Mikey had seen before. Its gaze bore into him. Slowly, it inched forward. Its eyes never left him. Mikey felt paralyzed under its eyes. The reflecting shimmer in its irises made it seem alien. Mikey’s hand flinched as he screamed inside himself to move, to run as fast as he could, alarm bells overwhelmed his brain as it grew closer still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey managed to move one foot back, his heel snapping the twig underneath him. Against his better judgement, Mikey had glanced back in surprise. When he turned back it was right in front of him. He could feel the hot air of its breath on his face.  Its mouth was open, sharp white teeth lining its grinning lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant the creature shot forward, surging towards him with terrifying speed. Mikey almost fainted right there. He managed to twist away in time as claws swiped at his shell. The force was enough to send him flying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey screamed as the momentum whirled him backwards, tumbling down the slope he had intended to use to escape Leo’s capture. The leaves that once served as a speed boost to his escape now impeded it. The leaves foiled each attempted grip on the ground as he rolled down the hill. He felt trigs, roots, and rocks dig at his skin. Dirt and damp leaves clung to his face and fingernails as he clawed at the Earth to stop the motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the scrape of a sharp rock against his knee, only for a second one to hit his upper arm. He hissed as his snout collided with a root, the pain blinding his other senses. When Mikey finally hit level ground, his vision was still swimming. He tried to right himself, but was too turned around. He fell back sideways with each attempt. He shook his head, breathing heavy as the vertigo receded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt thick drops on the back of his head. Fearing it was blood, he wiped at it. Oddly enough, the substance was not the same. It was too sticky to be blood. He peered up, a second drop meeting his cheek. That’s when he felt it, the hot puff of air that sent his bones rattling inside him. Hovering overtop of the turtle was the beast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Mikey stared at the ivory knives inside the beast’s mouth, he couldn’t help but imagine the sharp teeth tearing into him, the long claws pulling apart his limbs in a flurry of violence. Its teeth stripping away the meat from his bones, only to crunch those as well. He wondered how long it would take to die. Being eaten alive was not a fear Michelangelo thought he had, at least, not until this moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For an excruciatingly long moment, neither of them moved. Mikey took in the hulking furry black form of the monster. Its sharp pointed ears curled up like horns on its head. Its snout was stubby and ugly, wrinkling like a balding snarling dog. He wondered if the creature enjoyed seeing the fear on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey couldn’t help but shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to die here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It snapped at him, attempting to crush the turtle’s head in its maw. Mikey managed to crane his head to the side with a shriek, the clap of its powerful jaw echoing in the valley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey snaked his hands up, attempting to role the creature off of him as it continued to snap at everything in its reach. Claws dug into his shoulder, pinning him. He cried out in pain as he kicked at the creature's back legs. It was like trying to budge a fallen tree. He sacrificed his hold, blindly feeling for his weapon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the searing pain as the claws dug at him, the other set boxing him in from above. Finally, he managed to finagle his nunchuck out of its holder. He pushed back against the long claws digging into his arm, holding the wolfish being away from his face with the chain. His hands shook with the effort, his nunchaku now the only thing coming between him and death.  He closed his eyes as drool cascaded down into them, rendering him blind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey screamed, finally remembering to use his voice. The echo reverberated in his chest with such force his voice actually broke. He breathed deeply, gathering more to expel. He screamed for help, praying to the spirits above that Leo hadn’t already passed by him. Surely his brother would have seen the footprints? Surely he would have noticed the struggle? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise only irritated the beast. Its claws raked down his arm. He felt the blood pooling at his shoulder. His shell slid against the ground as the creature kept up its incessant attack. It moved him back, completely enraptured in the prey splayed before it despite Mikey’s chokehold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one terrifying moment, Mikey’s arms faltered, allowing the creature more leeway. He felt the sting of teeth graze his face, the snarls deafening his hearing. Suddenly, one of the chains on his nunchuck bent, leaving Mikey with the dawning realization that they would not last much longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant he was pulled forward, flying off his feet and toppling over the creature. It was a confusing feeling, one moment being pinned by a massive weight, the next completely free-flying. He slid across the ground, clutching his hurt shoulder with a shuddering cry. Mikey hastily wiped the saliva from his eyes, straining to see the creature before it could pin him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead what he saw was the speeding figure of his brother, deflecting the claws and teeth of the being with surprising strength. Mikey sat, dazed and watching as the adrenaline filtered through his shaking body. The determination and anger in his brother’s eyes challenged the ferocity of the beast's own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With every snarl of the creature, his brother mirrored it, unperturbed by its intimidation. With a cry, Raphael hit it, backing the punch with his full body. The creature yelped, tumbling to the ground long enough for Raphael to look back to his brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mikey! Are you okay?” Raphael huffed loudly, his expression turning from anger to worry as he made eye contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey attempted to move his lips, to move his body, but his knee buckled. Raphael caught him, holding his shell up as he gently moved him back to the ground. “That doesn’t look good. Just hold on, we’ll get you back to the farmhouse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey felt the raspiness of his voice as he turned to speak to his brother. Instead, he saw the creeping figure of the creature slinking towards them. Mikey cried out to Raph, warning him as it surged upon them. Raphael dropped his brother and whipped around, meeting it head on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raphael plunged his sai into the creature’s chest, feeling the sick warm liquid run down his hand. With his other arm he held it steady, his sai stuck deep into the being’s shoulder. Mikey stared into the eyes of the creature. It was so close Mikey could touch it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey watched the light slowly dim from its eyes. It slumped against his brother, the weight almost taking Raphael with it. He hefted it off, sliding down and off of his weapons. Mikey continued to stare at it, fearing that if he took his eyes off of it for even a moment, it could spring back to life and attack them once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head was spinning. His arm was hurt, but he felt nothing. Not with the adrenaline of fear still surging through him. He felt like he was still shaking. Was he shaking or was it the wind? He felt Raphael’s hand on his good shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike, it’s okay. It’s dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey tried to nod his head and respond, but he couldn’t move. Raphael turned back to the creature, cursing. He kicked the arm of it, proving his point when it didn’t respond. “What the shell was that thing.” Raphael asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t know…” Mikey responded, finally feeling himself returning to his body. He looked to Raphael, thanking him for saving his life. “Raph, I-” He didn’t manage to finish getting the words out, however, because he noticed the red trailing down Raphael’s arm hadn’t stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey moved forward, tentatively hovering over the mark between his shoulder and neck. “You’re hurt!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raphael winced, slapping his brother’s hand away. “I’m fine, he just managed to get a good taste is all. You’re in worse than me bozo.” He chucked motioning to the tears in Mikey’s arm. Suddenly he gasped, gripping his head as the remaining sai slipped from his grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raph?” Mikey called as he reached out, alarmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raphael dropped to the ground, grunting in pain as he doubled over. Mikey was instantly at his side, hands supporting him as he trembled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I don’t know.” Raphael grunted through grinding teeth. “It just suddenly feels like my body is on fire.” He doubled over again, writhing in pain as a particularly nasty wave of agony rushed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey watched the muscles in his brother’s body ripple, the veins bulging with effort. His finger’s dug into the Earth, gripping large chunks of grass between his hands. Mikey could see the sheen of sweat build up on his brother’s skin, the moon reflecting in the small droplets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt absolutely helpless, unable to move his brother with his injured arm. In Raph’s state there was no way he could get him back up the steep hill. But he couldn’t leave him here, not with that thing, dead or not. Mikey glanced back at the lifeless body of the creature, noting that it hadn’t so much as flinched since Raph took it down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another cry from his brother sent spikes of fear down his spine. He shook his head, cursing himself for becoming distracted. His brother needed help. He searched the line of the trees, calling out to his brothers as loud as he possibly could. Frantically he called out, waiting every so often for a response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The response that he got, however, sent Mikey’s dinner resurfacing in his throat. He heard a sickening snapping of bone, and looked down to see Raphael’s shell distending. Mikey had never felt so much panic in his life. He reached out to touch it, as if he could keep it from cracking further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raphael shrieked at the touch, swiping at his brother with a growl. Mikey reeled back, noting the stinging on his chest. He looked down to see two claw marks on his plastron. He looked back up in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-Raph? What’s happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raphael splayed his hands out painfully in front of him. Mikey watched in horror as the bones from his fingers jutted out like claws from his tips. His back curved out from his shell, his thighs rippling as the muscles became pronounced. His pads popped off his body as they strained against the growing girth. The scutes on his chest and back grew and overlapped like armor plates. His mouth extruded and curved sharply inwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey, frightened by the scene, reached out once more for his brother. To comfort, or be comforted, he wasn’t sure. Raphael’s head snapped back to him. His teeth peeked out from behind his bent lips. There was a deep reverberating noise coming from his chest. A growl that crescendoed into a startling snarl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of all of this though, what drew Mikey’s attention was its eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey recognized those eyes. Those bright, glowing orbs. They stared back at him, encased in pitch black darkness. They were filled with an empty void of the creature’s mind. Mikey couldn’t recognize his brother in those eyes. Nothing but instinct was left, the white expansive irises mirroring nothing but the full moon overhead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raphael was gone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Overridden Tides</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt: Trapped, Drowning<br/>This one is for <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnoDawn/pseuds/TechnoDawn">TechnoDawn</a>, a special Donatello whump for always supporting my other fics!<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was madness, really. A fluke. Some awful rolling of the dice on the universe’s part. By no means should Donatello be in such an unfortunate situation, and yet here he was, gasping, sputtering, and panicking in the depths of the sewers. Trapped.</p><p>It was no surprise to his brothers that Don had dived head first into a new project. With the city as quiet as it was lately, all four turtles seemed to have a lot more time on their hands. Donatello had been eyeing this part of the tunnels underneath their lair for a while, wanting to connect a section in order to make a quicker access point. Leo had wholeheartedly backed Don’s plan. A secret escape route would do wonders for Leonardo’s anxiety. After all, their home had been attacked enough times to warrant one. </p><p>Donatello did however have his own reasons. With the new access point, he would be able to salvage the depths quicker, as well as gain access to a curious room that had been closed off. Donatello had to create a dam in the tunnel in order to drain the area. It was much easier than working underwater. A single hose and pump circulated the water out, allowing Don to affix the secondary valve. </p><p>Currently, Donatello was absorbed in mapping out the new area, comparing it to both the city plans and everything his echo locator picked up. However, as he chewed on the cap of his marker, he heard a strange grating sound nearby. Curious, Don stood and listened, trying to pinpoint the location. After a few seconds he heard it again coming from the connecting tube between the two rooms. </p><p>He ducked inside, lightly palming the affixed metal plate. He had closed off the accessway with a few good uses of his oxyacetylene torch on the sheet of metal. He pushed again on the sheet, feeling a slight give as he glided the pressure around the seal. He felt a small steady stream of water trickling through. Furrowing his brow, he called back to his brother. </p><p>“Hey Leo, can you run and grab the allo sheets? I think the seal needs to be reinforced.” When Donatello didn’t hear his brother’s reply, he turned back around to scan the area. “Leo?”</p><p>Donatello had forgotten that his brother was currently taking a break to spar with Raphael. He sighed, turning back around to grab the torch from his belt. “Having a lab partner was nice while it lasted.” </p><p>He crawled back into the small connecting tunnel, adjusting his goggles over his eyes. After testing the torch a few times, he got to work melting a few more supporting points onto the metal plate. “This will just have to do until I get back down here.” Don smiled to himself, “Can’t have you destroying hours of work.”</p><p>Just as he melted the second support however, the metal plate flew into him. The powerful blast from the water pressure was enough to knock Don clean on his shell. The plate scraped into his plastron, creating a painfully awkward angle inside the tube. He struggled against the torrent of water keeping him pinned, only managing to slide a few inches as the plate settled against him. </p><p>From the angle Don was in, there was no way to leverage himself against the tight space. He kicked at the metal plate, hoping to dislodge it and himself. When it refused to budge, however, Don realized that the few supports he had melted into it were holding strong. Too strong. He felt around for his torch, hoping to cut away the plate so that the water currently spewing out could dislodge him the rest of the way.</p><p>Since he was on his shell, it was difficult to locate the darn thing. He twisted his head about, trying to get a glimpse of the tool. He gasped around the water, the new angle accidentally causing the water to cascade over his face. He sputtered, using his free hand to wipe his eyes. Finally, he caught sight of it, but the current had pushed it far beyond his reach. Don sighed, his hand dropping into the flooding floor with a defeated splash. </p><p>He turned, trying to reach for his duffel bag instead. It was still beyond his reach, but closer than the torch currently was. He groaned as his arms stretched and strained against the hold of the plate. It felt like it would pop clean out of its socket if he continued. Donatello grunted. <em> Better a dislocated shoulder than drowning </em>. His other arm was pinned by his side, the weight from his body quickly putting it to sleep. The cold water rushed in waves over him. It was icy and unforgiving, causing the dread to quickly rise in his throat.</p><p>It was no use. He’d have to wait for the current to rise enough to move it closer. Donatello berated himself for getting into such a predicament. His brothers would never leave him alone again. As dire as the situation might have seemed, Donatello still sought to save face and get himself out of this situation on his own. Somehow having a plan kept his nerves quite calm. Others would say it was misguided and delusional to react so calmly. One way or another he’d find out, eventually.</p><p>His neck bent at an unforgiving angle, the world a blur of surfacing motion and upside down imagery. He caught the lantern flickering as the water reached it, its bright light dancing across the surface of the murk. He watched as it bobbed for a moment, before being overtaken by the hungry waters. It glided along the bottom, scraping across the floor as the current swept it around the room on an invisible string. The breaking waves reflected the flickering lights throughout, causing a kaleidoscope of shapes to appear under the surface. </p><p>It was oddly beautiful, Donatello thought, even in such a dire situation, something so beautiful could exist. The water levels had risen inside the room enough to begin carrying other objects. They stirred slowly from their seats on the ground. They rose in tandem and began shifting mesmerizingly about, like ballroom dancers enjoying the call of a last dance. </p><p>Donatello named off the objects, trying to identify them as they swam by. Never would he have thought that such familiar items would so easily become alien to him from the shift in perspective. His notebook. A thermos. Some pliers. If he survived this, Donatello swore he would regularly practice with mirror goggles in the future. He watched his floor plans drift by, soaked, but still in one piece.</p><p>Next was the lanturn, the eerie dimming light, a physical manifestation of his hope at this point. Without the light source, there was no way he’d be able to find the items he needed. He swept his eyes underneath the surface, watching the heavier objects. A few tools and pipes never made it far, the weight causing them to merely swirl about on the bottom. He licked his lips, eyeing the duffle bag teetering in between floating and sinking. A limbo of balance in the depths. </p><p>If he could reach it, he could grab his shellcell and call one of his brothers. He just had to be patient. The water levels were in tandem with his body now. The situation was turning too dire to do this on his own. He needed to swallow his pride if he was going to get out of this alive. Donatello’s heart jumped as a particularly powerful current pushed the duffel forward.</p><p>“Yes, yes come on. Just a little farther.” Donatello whispered, beckoning to the duffel with his hand.</p><p>His fingers brushed against the fabric of the bag. His heart skipped a beat. It was so close. Carefully, he tried to curl his finger around the edge. He held his breath as he dunked his head underwater, gaining a better view of the canvas tote. He just needed the water to give it one more push. Just a few more centimeters. His arm stretched as far as it could, ready to intercept the package as soon as it moved. </p><p>His body fought with him as his lungs began to scream for air. He begged them to wait just a bit longer. Just another few seconds. He felt the bubbles escape his mouth, blocking his vision. At the same moment the bag disappeared from sight. No, it didn’t just disappear. Everything did. Donatello panicked, realizing that he was suddenly in complete darkness. His head shot out of the water, gasping and searching for any source of light. There was none. The water must have finally seeped into the lantern’s core, frying it. </p><p>He swept his hand out, trying to remember where he had last seen the bag. Without the light, he wouldn’t be able to see where the current was moving it. Suddenly his hand connected with something, and Donatello could have screamed. He accidentally knocked the bag back, farther away. </p><p><em> No, no, no! </em> Donatello wailed angrily. He tried to calm himself, taking in a lungful of air as he slowly swept his hand along the bottom, feeling for the fabric again. After a minute Donatello gave up. He was frustrated and shaking. The darkened room made the whole experience that much more terrifying. He could no longer see the water levels rising. Only feel the slow steady tide against his skin, creeping up incessantly as the minutes drew out. </p><p>Donatello shivers.</p><p><em> This is insane </em> , he thinks. <em> This can’t be happening </em>.</p><p>In a last ditch attempt, Donatello feels along the floor for something, anything that can aid him. He flinches when he actually connects with something. He pulls it close to his body, feeling the shape in the darkness in order to identify it. It’s long, cylindrical. He thumbs the rough texture. </p><p><em> A pipe </em>.</p><p>He tries to wedge it in between himself and the metal plate. It’s hard, pushing against the current, but he manages to do it. He hooks it upwards, using the angle to pry it open just a bit more. Donatello’s heart flutters when he feels something give. Just a budge, but he felt it. He pushed again, this time with enough force that his arm shakes. </p><p>Suddenly the pipe gives, causing Don to punch the ceiling of the small gutter. He cries out, his mind in white hot pain as his knuckles break against the metal. The feeling is only dulled by the sharpness he feels on the side of his plastron. It hurts to move his hand but he has to. He feels the area on his side, desperately trying to ignore the stinging water on his split fist. He feels the grooves in the bone and realizes that the pipe must have broken off, the jagged end slicing him as it gave way.</p><p>He can feel the surging water soften as the levels become high enough to envelope the jetting stream underneath him. Donatello feels a wave of nausea overcome him. He can’t hold on much longer, he can feel the buzzing deep in his chest. The buildup of adrenaline threatening to override his higher thoughts. </p><p>
  <em> It’s been long enough, hasn’t it?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Leo should be back by now, shouldn’t he? </em>
</p><p><em> Before it’s too late, </em> Donatello thinks, <em> before I no longer have the option </em>. </p><p>He tells himself that it’s no use, the walls are too thick, the water is too loud. It won’t matter. Still, with what precious moments he has left, Donatello allows himself to be overcome. </p><p>He thrashes about, kicking at the tunnel, the metal sheet. He bangs the broken pipe along the wall, hoping the echo will carry where his voice cannot. He twists and screams and hollers for his brother, hoping despite knowing better, that his brother will somehow have super hearing. </p><p><em> Just this one time. Please, just this once </em> . His voice breaks and hurts in his throat, he’ll lose his voice tomorrow. He can feel the raw grating of air against his vocal cords. <em> This shouldn’t be how I go </em> , Don thinks. <em> It’s almost embarrassing if it wasn’t terrifyingly tragic. A turtle? Drowning? What kind of irony is that.  </em></p><p>He shivers. </p><p>The water continues to creep up Donatello’s skin, remaining ignorant of his pleas. It’s cold yet calming in a way. The water supports him, draining away any weight as it continues to envelope him. Donatello strains his neck above the water, as much as he can to fight the inevitable. His muscles ache and burn with protest. His head shakes with the effort. Eventually, he tires enough to relax, taking a deep breath before allowing himself back. Thankfully, the water doesn’t quite cover his face yet. His head bobs in place. </p><p>He releases the breath shakily. His ears are under the water. He can hear the steady stream below him, an ever present reminder of time passing. He can hear the muted echoes of metal tools and pipes bobbing and floating about on the dark floor. His lips are tight, pressed in a tight line as he forces himself to calm down and breathe only through his nose. </p><p>His body betrays him. </p><p>He inhales sharply, cursing the shake in his body as he does so. Is it fear? Cold? Anticipation? Perhaps all three. A blended concoction of torture of Donatello’s own making. He thinks the anticipation is the worst of all. He shouldn’t have time to contemplate his own death. He shouldn’t be able to speedrun the stages of grief like this. His mind is at war, he screams at himself to be patient, be strong, keep on hoping for salvation. His other half, the child in him, has his best interests in mind. It screams at the universe in his defence, in fairness, in terror. </p><p>His skin continues to buzz. With the light long devoured, and his hearing muffled by water, all he has left is the heightened nerves in his skin. They seek desperately for information, working thrice over to make up for the other senses. He wishes it wouldn’t. He doesn’t want to feel every centimeter the water gains. He doesn’t want to be reminded of every second closer he is to drowning. He fights with his mind once again, begging him to just plunge his head into the depths and finish it. </p><p>Anything would be better than the agonizing wait, it argues. He can feel it again, overcoming him. His mind swirles, vertigo confusing his sense of everything in the darkness. If he weren’t pinned, he’d have trouble identifying which way was up. He knows he won’t be able to see anything, still his eyes widen and search the ceiling above him, ready to pick out any sign of movement from the duct. </p><p>He swallows. </p><p>He can feel the icy temperature with every intake now. It only drives his heart rate higher. He doesn’t have long now. He knows it. He dreads it. He doesn’t want his brother to find him like this. The guilt will drive him mad. Donatello wishes he could leave some sort of message, a note. He doesn’t want Leo to blame himself. Even if a part of Don blames him for not coming back yet. It’s not his fault. The water licks his lips now. It tickles his face as it traces the contours of his features. </p><p>He strains his neck once more, desperately trying to gain a few more centimeters of clearance. He’ll have to hold his breath soon, he thinks. He won’t give up. He won’t do that to his brothers. He has to keep fighting, no matter how scary it becomes. Don never understood why Mikey had always been afraid of the dark growing up. But now, after this, he could understand. </p><p>It wasn’t just the fear of what lurked beyond your senses, it was the feeling of having them ripped from you, unable to use such a function you relied on so heavily. He wondered if Mikey would make fun of him after this. It would be just considering how they used to tease him. They didn’t understand. Don hadn’t understood. Not truly. At least, not until this moment.</p><p>It inhales sharply. The cold temperature emanating from the water is so close, it permeates off the surface as he breathes in, traveling to his lungs. He can’t strain upwards any farther, and for one terrifying moment, his lips dip under the surface. Not all the way, but just enough to cause water to enter the wrong pipe. He sputters and coughs, his heart jackhammering as he wonders if this is it. <em> It’s too soon. </em> He thinks. <em> I can hold out longer! </em></p><p>He manages to clear his airway enough to grab one last lungful of air. As much as he wishes there was more time, there’s not much else he can do. The water tickles his nose, quickly swallowing the tip as the last of Donatello is devoured by the rising tide. <em> Calm yourself, Donatello. </em> He chants to himself, keeping his eyes closed in the depths. <em> Any minute now, Leo will be here. He always is. You just need to hold on a little longer. </em></p><p>He ignores the burning in his lungs, opting to count the seconds of his heartbeat as a distraction. If he could calm himself enough to meditate, he could last longer. He just needed to still his heart. His mouth twitches as he fights the urge to dive up for air. A few bubbles escape from his beak, retreating to the top where Donatello couldn’t follow.</p><p>He reaches his hand up, feeling his fingers breach the surface. He taps at the water, hoping the ripples would draw his brother’s attention. Donatello struggles to keep the breath inside him. He clenches his teeth, fidgeting in the depths as his body’s natural instinct sets to override Donatello’s own demands. The motions only use up more oxygen. Donatello curses himself for not having better control. Slowly, his resolve disappears, replacing itself with panic. </p><p>He cups his hand, trying to bring down air to his mouth. He feels the bubbles of spent air escape his lungs, tickling his face as they float upwards. He brings his hand down, there’s a small bubble in his palm. He breathes it in, cursing his small hand for all that it could carry. He quickly tries again, knowing that it’s not enough. <em> Just a little more </em>, he thinks. He doesn’t need much. He moves back up to breach the surface again, only to never reach it. </p><p><em> No </em>.</p><p>Donatello panics, His hand splaying out to reach for that divide between the depths and above. He can feel the small amount of oxygen being eaten away by his body. It’s not enough. He needs more. He closes his shaking fist, bringing it down on the concrete wall above him. With his last spent breath he screams, letting the air bubbles envelope him before they too drift away. He refuses to let go. Holding on with everything he has to keep from inhaling. No matter how much his body begs him, pleads with him, tries to persuade him that it’s okay. Just one breath. That’s all he needs.</p><p>He thrashes his head back and forth, his toes curling as his lungs burn. He can feel his heart throb throughout his entire body. He pleads for Leo, Raph, Mikey, anyone. His whole body shakes. He clamps his hand over his mouth, refusing to let it open. Regardless, it does, and Donatello clamps his teeth down onto his fingers. It only buys him a few more seconds. </p><p>It’s inevitable. Donatello realizes. You can’t fight your own body. Just like how you can’t keep your heart from beating. Or how you can’t control where your blood flows. One way or another, despite your best intentions, your body will override you.</p><p>
  <em> Ah. </em>
</p><p>Dontello realizes he let go. </p><p>It’s painful, he realizes, until it’s not. </p><p>Until he’s glancing up at the darkness, realizing that his eyes are open. </p><p>There’s a light in front of him. </p><p>He reaches towards it, noticing how light he suddenly feels, as if he’s floating away from his own body.</p><p>Just as he’s about to touch it, someone snatches his hand, pulling him downwards. The light expands, blinding him enough to turn his head away. He winces at the pain. Noting when something blocks the light. </p><p>“-on!” </p><p>Something like a vice is squeezing his hand. He groans, his whole body shaking as the weight crashes down on him. </p><p>“<em> Don! </em>”</p><p>He feels someone turning him over, their warm hands breaking through the numbness as they roughly sooth him. Donatello means to look up, but he never makes it far enough, coughing up water and breakfast onto the floor. He makes out the knees of his brothers as they shuffle closer. There’s a clatter of plastic and metal to his right. The sound causes him to flinch, his hearing so sensitive all of a sudden. There are hands all over him, scooting him away from the mess draining from his lungs. </p><p>“Hey, hey.” One of them soothes. “Take it easy Don-”</p><p>“How long was he..?”</p><p>“I-I don’t know.” </p><p>The person is moved out of the way before Don has a chance to identify them, replaced with someone else. </p><p>“Let him speak! Don, please say something!” Donatello swallows, feeling the razor blades in his throat. He tries to say something, but all he manages to sound is a wet gurgle. </p><p>“Dude, he’s shaking like crazy!”</p><p>“Bring him to the couch, I’ll get some blankets.”</p><p>Just as the figures start to take shape, the light flickers out again. Donatello feels the dread in his chest, he doesn’t want to be left in darkness again. Alone. Cold. Trapped.</p><p>When Donatello wakes again, there’s an incredible weight on him. He tries to move his arm, only to realize it’s completely wrapped, along with the rest of his body, in a blanket burrito. Before he has time to question it however, the body underneath him shifts.</p><p>“Don, hey, how do you feel?”</p><p>Dontello looks up to see Leonardo’s eyes fixed on him, searching his face with worry. </p><p>“You scared the shell out of us brainiac!” Raphael states from behind Leo, his brows furrowed. </p><p>Donatello clears his throat, feeling the grate of his vocal cords give as he hoarsely replies. “T-The tunnel. It breached.” The look on his brother’s faces is all Don needs. They know, of course they know. They found him after all. Donatello brings out his good hand, moving the shaking limb to his face. “I thought for sure I was gonna die.”</p><p>Leonardo and Raphael exchanged a look, before Raphael shifted out from behind them to sit next to Don. He roughly pulled Don’s hand down from his face, squeezing it hard to keep even himself from shaking. “Don,” Raphael started softly, “you did die.”</p><p>Raphael watched Donatello for a moment, his eyes slowly widening as he understood. Raphael thumbed the fingers on his hand as he eye’d the other bandaged one. “I had to use the defibrillator on you.” Raphael shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “More times than I'd like to admit.”</p><p>“We were so scared when we found you.” Leo corrected himself, “When I found you.” Leo watched him with sad eyes. “I should never have left.”</p><p>Donatello looked between them, feeling the tears start to well up as he shook. “I-I was alone. I was so scared. It felt like I was down there forever!” Donatello tried to sit up, eliciting his brothers into action as they helped him up. “I thought for sure I was never going to see you all again!” Donatello closed his eyes, feeling the drops fall unceremoniously onto the blankets bellow. He curled them into his good fist, biting his lip as he refused to sob openly. </p><p>He felt his brothers envelope him, whispering soft words as they comforted him. The claustrophobic feeling was a complete contrast to the cold suffocating water that very nearly became his tomb. Nobody said anything when Mikey returned, rubbing Don’s shell as the fears from the event tumbled out of his throat and off his tongue, into the understanding and supportive laps of his brothers. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anyone else have a fear of being trapped in a cave and drowning? No, just me?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Unnerved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt used: Paranoia and Donatello.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something was wrong with Leo.</p><p>Donatello never saw any evidence, and when he asked, Leo always gave him a quizzical look and asked Don if he was feeling alright.</p><p>But Donatello knew. He could feel it.</p><p>Something was very wrong with Leo.</p><p>It started with goosebumps. His sixth sense alerting him to a presence, one that made him pause and shiver. He could feel someone there, in the corners and shadows, watching him. Every time he would look back however, nothing would be there. A few times he was quick enough to catch the tail end of a shadow retreating. It did not ease his worry. </p><p>Sometimes he would catch his brother, silently staring at him with blank eyes from across the room. Soon enough the feeling became synonymous with his brother. He confronted Raphael about Leo, but his brother simply shrugged him off, the two having cried wolf too many times in jest. </p><p>
  <em> Guys, Donatello’s possessed! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Leonardo’s a doppelganger! </em>
</p><p>Someone’s replaced our brother with this imposter.</p><p>Donatello knew it went too far when he awoke one night, a cold sweat coating his body as a familiar feeling swept over his mind. He threw the covers off of his body, his head whipping about his room. He swallowed, frustrated at the constant paranoia. </p><p>“I know you’re here! Show yourself!” When silence responded, Donatello stormed out of his room. He saw the light from the dojo through the rice paper screens. Slowly, he crept up to it, sliding the door back enough to gaze in with a single eye. In the middle of the room knelt his brother. He was still, his movements calculated, smooth as they grazed across the blade in his hand. Donatello’s throat felt dry as he watched. </p><p>It was extremely late, Leo should have long gone to bed. Instead he sat there in the empty room, wiping at the same part on his sword over and over again. An intense and yet darkly empty look in his eyes. Donatello thought about confronting him, but every instinct inside of the turtle screamed at him to run. Donatello felt frozen on the spot, mesmerized by the stranger. </p><p>When Donatello looked up from the blade once more, he caught Leonardo staring back at him. The blood drained from Donatello’s face. He inhaled sharply, darting back to his room at a speed that surprised even him. His door slammed shut. Donatello fumbled with the lock, his hands shaking as he piled the heavy furniture against it. He backed up into his bed, grabbing his weapon. </p><p>He whimpered, wondering what on earth was going on. Every nerve ending stood on end as he readied himself for the creature sporting Leo’s skin to try to break in. But as the minutes dragged on, Donatello realized that Leo wasn’t coming. He finally allowed himself to sag, crawling up and onto the bed. The rest of the night he kept his eyes trained on the door, weapon in hand, ready. Waiting.</p><p>After that night, Donatello refused to sleep without locking his door. His days were spent hopping between madness and sanity, his anxiety at a constant high as he tried to go about his day normally, the paranoia and fear at his brother a constant looming threat. He made his way to the kitchen, drawn in by Mikey’s voice. As he entered however, he froze. Catching the sight of Leonardo beside him. In his hands, sat one of the butcher knives.</p><p>Donatello caught the same glint in his brother’s eye as he had a few nights ago, that same hand gliding over the blade slowly, lovingly, as he smiled. Donatello reacted purely on instinct, whirling his bo at his brother. He yelled out for Mikey to get away as the knife sailed into the wall behind them. Mikey fell back, surprised as Leo yelped.</p><p>“Dude, what is wrong with you?!” Leo cried as he nursed his hand. Donatello stepped in between himself and Mikey, creating a protective guard.</p><p>“Get away from him!” Donatello screamed as he gripped his bo tighter. Leo looked at him confused, and genuinely surprised. Don felt Mikey’s hand on his arm, and looked back to his little brother. Mikey’s face was concerned, especially when he saw the frantic look in Don’s eyes.</p><p>“Hey, Don, are you feeling alright?”</p><p>“I-I’m fine!” Donatello stuttered. “Leo, he was going to attack you. Didn’t you see him?”</p><p>Leonardo and Mikey exchanged looks. Leo relaxed, waving to the counter beside them. “The only thing I was planning to attack was this chicken breast bro.”</p><p>Donatello looked at the ingredients beside them for the first time, then back to his brothers. He felt Mikey’s hand return to his arm, gentle and reassuring. “Don maybe you should lie down, I know you haven’t been sleeping well lately.”</p><p>Donatello stepped back from them both, looking between his brothers wildly. “Look!” He pointed at Leo’s face. “Look at him! Don’t you see it! His eyes, look at his eyes!” </p><p>Leonardo blinked at him, turning to Mikey. Mikey stared at his brother’s eyes for a moment before turning back. “Don, I don’t see anything.” Mikey replied sadly. </p><p>“I’m not crazy!” Donatello yelled as he caught Leo’s hand move to circle the side of his head at Mike. “I know what I saw!” Donatello stepped back. And then another. </p><p>Mikey held his hands out, trying to calm him. “No one said you were Don! We’re just worried about you!”</p><p>“You’re thinking it, I know you are!” Donatello gripped his bo close to his chest. The horrible feeling of everything he knew started to crumble around him. “I’m not- I’m not crazy!” Donatello took off, vaguely hearing Mikey’s voice calling after him.</p><p>Donatello refused to leave his lab.</p><p>Occasionally his brothers would stop by, knocking at his door, asking for him. They insisted they wanted to talk, nothing more. But Donatello knew better. Sometimes they would offer gifts to try and bribe him out, food, his favorite movie, an excursion topside. It was all in vain. Donatello refused to fall for it. He wouldn’t let them in. </p><p>Not until he had proof.</p><p>His eyes watered as he continued to stare at the screens. The dark lab made it easier to concentrate on the video feeds. Papers littered the workspace, overflowing onto the floor surrounding his chair. He mumbled to himself as he scratched out an old time code on one of the paper pads. Each screen showed a different section of the lair. He recorded everything. Somewhere, in one of the cameras, there had to be proof. </p><p>He just needed to find it. </p><p>He gazed up at the recorded feed of Leo he had caught before. The first screen, Leo was hunched over, the blade, eyes half lidded as he stroked the blade. It was paused mid swipe. The next one was of Leo in the kitchen. As Mikey had said, they were simply cooking together. However, what Mikey hadn’t seen was what happened when he left. Donatello had watched in growing horror as Leo stood stone still, staring at the knife for over five minutes. Not a single movement during that time. </p><p>Donatello thought the camera had malfunctioned, but the run time on the feed said otherwise. By the time Mikey returned, Leo acted like nothing had happened. The third video was just as unsettling. During one of the nights, Leo had simply appeared in the living room. He stood, as still as he had in the kitchen, and stared at the wall. </p><p>All night he stood, staring, mere inches from it. His back was to the camera. If Don hadn’t picked out the pattern of his shell, he would have believed him to be a part of the furniture. The remaining monitors had similarly unnerving events. Everytime he found a hint of evidence, anything from Leo that made Don’s skin crawl, he would pause it and move it to one of the monitors above. A collection of evidence. </p><p>Was this enough evidence? How much more would he need to convince his brothers? </p><p>With a deep breath, Donatello opened the camera file from his room many nights back. He watched the feed intently for a while, trying to pick out every shadow or movement he perceived in his room. Unfortunately, the only thing he saw was his own sleeping form. That is, until the feed jumped. Donatello almost didn’t catch it. It happened right before he woke up. </p><p>He scrubbed the video back, playing it at half speed. What he saw took his breath away. </p><p>It was Leo.</p><p>Leo was in his room.</p><p>He hovered over his bed, slowly, eerily moving ever so close to his sleeping form. The video jumped again and he was gone, leaving a panicking Donatello in his wake. Donatello shakily moved the video back, staring at his brother through the screen. He sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. He added it to the others. </p><p>Surely this would be enough to convince his brothers. He knew he wasn’t crazy. He couldn’t be. But doubt still lingered in the memories of his brother’s skeptical faces. So he opted to add one more. From the living room a few weeks ago. </p><p>He fast forwarded to that night, watching as his brothers set up movie night in the living room. Leo moved about Raphael and Mikey, throwing pillows onto the soon-to-be nest on the floor in front of the projector. Donatello moved the camera angles, jumping between the different rooms as he followed his brother. Soon Leo returned with popcorn, setting it next to Michelangelo as he leaned against the sofa. </p><p>He watched their little brother peruse the DVDs, unsure which to pick for the night. Donatello watched irritatedly at Leo as he continued to just peer down over Mikey’s shoulder. </p><p>“You can’t hide it brother.” Donatello whispered to the screen. He zoomed in on the recording, studying his brother’s face as he silently read the movie titles from above Mike. “I know somethings up.” Donatello zoomed in further, trying to catch that unnerving glint he had seen in his brother’s eyes in the dojo. “You’ll slip up,” he continued whispering to himself. “And I’ll be ready.”</p><p>What he wasn’t ready for, however, was Leo’s gaze moving up to meet him through the video feed. Donatello reeled back, taken so off guard that he paused the video, bolting up. His chair fell back with a loud clatter, the papers surrounding him thrown about from the gust of energy. Donatello’s heartbeat violently in his chest. His breathing was erratic. </p><p>He couldn’t take his eyes off of Leo’s gaze. His eyes bore straight into him, as if the recording of his brother could see him through the screen. “It’s just a video.” Donatello reassured himself, placing a hand on his chest. Donatello’s heart began to still, only to be replaced by a very familiar feeling. </p><p>Goosebumps ran up his arms, a shiver making its way through his body. He felt cold all of a sudden, the nerves on the back of his neck tingling in warning. Slowly, Donatello moved his gaze upwards. On the screens above, on each video, on each pause in evidence Donatello had collected of Leo, stood exactly how he had left them. The only difference was that now each and every one of them were staring directly at him. </p><p>Donatello stepped back, nearly tripping over the fallen chair. <em> It was impossible. These were recordings. They can’t change! </em> Shaking, Donatello lunged for the monitors, shutting them all off. The screens flickered off, the two main monitors rebooting. The loading screen flickered on, its circulating update mesmerizing in the pitch blankness of the lab. Eventually the monitor booted back up, presenting the default camera feed. </p><p>Donatello peered at the screen, seeing his own form hunched over his station. He leaned in closer to the monitor, noting when the form on the video mirrored him. It was a live feed from the camera in his lab. Donatello turned to face the camera in the corner, catching the red blinking light on it in the darkness. He grabbed the chair off the floor, righting it as he sat back down. </p><p>Curious, Donatello checked the other live feeds in the lair. He moved through the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room, finding no one about. He moved on to the bedrooms, unsurprised to find both Raphael and Michelangelo asleep in their beds. His own room was empty, as it should be. But Leo’s, Leo’s had also been empty. </p><p>Donatello moved to the different rooms in the lair, half expecting to find his brother in the dojo, lovingly gazing at his sword again. The dojo, however, had also been empty. Donatello leaned in closer to the monitor, sweeping through the rooms once more. “I know you’re in here somewhere,” he whispered to himself. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”</p><p>After the third sweep through their home, Donatello felt stumped. Leo wouldn’t have gone topside at night, not alone, and not during the colder season. It was possible that his brother had simply gone out into the sewers, but Donatello hadn’t been alerted to a perimeter breach. There really weren’t any other places his brother could be hiding. </p><p>
  <em> Unless... </em>
</p><p>A cold fear settled into the pit of Donatello’s stomach. Hesitantly, he hovered over one of the cameras, feeling a dread building up inside him. He felt as if his soul were leaving his body. His mind buzzed, thoughts dropping through the floor. All that was left in his mind was deafening white noise. He clicked on the link.</p><p>His back was turned to the camera, the monitor’s light outlining his form. He felt that dreaded feeling on the back of his neck. That tantalizing itch, that beckoning call to turn around. He felt frozen in place. He couldn’t move, he didn’t dare. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around.</p><p>He continued to stare, frozen, at the live feed of his lab. He continued to stare at his own hunched back through the screen. He continued to stare at the figure standing behind him. </p><p>He continued to stare at Leo.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Actaeon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt: Hunted.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The trouble with witnesses is that rumors tended to spread. And when you live in the rural countryside, those rumors tend to grow rapidly, coiling into primal fear, building like snow at the mountain peak. Until one day, something gives, sending the hand of God himself to reign fury into those around Him. Unfortunately for the turtles, that day had come and gone. Silent, calculating, and deadly. For the four brothers, they quickly learned that the countryside could be just as dangerous as the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Mikey, Mikey we have to keep moving!” Donatello shrieked as he pulled his brother up from his stumble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bullets whizzed past them, sinking into the trunks of trees with a hollow thunk. He could hear the crack echoing around them, wood splintering, dirt kicking up from the ground. Each shot from the rifles was deafening, the rippling sound making it hard to pinpoint their exact location. In the dark all Donatello could use to identify the trajectory of the bullets was the sound they made as a few sailed a little too close to his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although each of them had trained to fight in the dark, it was a completely different matter in the lush landscape of the wild. In the city that never sleeps, lights could always be found. The light pollution alone made sure that even the outskirts had a dim light source to make out. And when that failed, Donatello had his night vision goggles. Oh how he wished he had them now. Unfortunately for the turtles on the run, they laid safely tucked away in Don’s duffel at the farmhouse, several miles back. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was it back?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Donatello wondered. They had been running so long, he wasn’t quite sure which direction was back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I think we’re still heading North</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d have to climb a tree to make sure, finding one that stood out from the others. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If that was even possible</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Don scoffed. They could pass the same tree twice and Donatello was sure he wouldn’t notice.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The forest was ruthless in comparison to their home in the city, its tall trees and wide brambles making it difficult for explorers. One could quickly lose themselves in the maze of nearly identical plantlife. That is if the wildlife didn’t find them first. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or the locals</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Donatello added morbidly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at this point I’d much rather fight a bear</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He would give anything to be back on their home turf, instead of being herded like sheep in an unknown landscape.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Except these shepherds have guns</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and these sheep are being herded to safety.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Donatello gulped.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>They couldn’t be that smart, could they? They’re just common country folk. It’s not like they're elite ninja</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He heard the revving of an engine, followed by more shots. He felt something graze against him, too lost in the adrenaline to know if it was a bullet or a branch. His breath hitched as he felt his leg buckle underneath him. He hissed, recovering before he fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the workout, Don’s finger’s had long since become icicles. It wasn’t supposed to be that cold yet, but nightly temperatures were fickle this time of year. He glanced at his brother, praying that they weren’t running straight into a trap. Another gunshot sailed to his left, too close to Mikey’s position for comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey was in front of him now, his attention solely on staying out of the line of fire. He zigged in and out from the trees, hoping to throw off the hunter’s aim. They kept their distance from each other, knowing their chances of being hit would lessen the farther they were from one another. Smaller target, smaller chances. They ran at full pace, cursing the crackling sticks and leaves under their feet. Fall was the worst time for a ninja, second only to winter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, they hated being out in the open like this. The bushes and brush were not enough to properly hide in. Not like the dumpsters, shadows, and roofs of home. And not for their size. Their green skin normally would melt perfectly into the landscape, but not now. Not in this season. The red, browns, and gold only served to accentuate their natural reptilian hues. Donatello wasn’t sure how bears managed to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Don realized in a panic that he had lost himself in his thoughts, mentally kicking himself for losing focus at such a crucial time. That was when he realized that he had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>able </span>
  </em>
  <span>to lose focus. Meaning that it was possible that they were no longer being chased. Mikey must have noticed too, because not a moment later did his brother call out to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think we lost them?” Mikey kept his distance, hesitant to return to Don’s side in case the danger had yet to pass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello ducked behind a tree, stilling his heart so that he could hear better. The blood pumped loudly in his ears, but besides his heartbeat, all Donatello could hear was the wind rustling the leaves overhead. Slowly, Mikey made his way over to Don. They were both breathing quite heavily, the terrain draining them more than it should have. Keeping balance on the slick leaves made it difficult to simply walk, let alone sprint at full speed. Both turtles sported patchy dirt-ridden kneepads, forever thankful for their guards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey rested against Don’s tree, peering up as he closed his eyes. He sighed, attempting to wipe the cold sweat from his face. The air bit in their lungs like needles, the cold night unforgiving in nature. If they hadn’t had such an intense run just now, no doubt they’d be shivering. As his breathing finally leveled, Donatello reached for his shellcell. Turning it on, Don used the light source to look his brother over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey squinted in the brightness, hissing at the light. “Come on man, warn a turtle before you blind him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Don said half-heartedly, too focused on assessing his brother for bullet holes. “Were you hit?” He asked as he continued to sweep the light over his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so.” Mikey said as he turned for his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello grunted, trying to identify the many nicks on Mike’s form. He stopped however, when he got to Mikey’s right side, the blood on his arm was enough to draw his full attention. He gripped Mikey’s forearm, holding it out to see where the source of the bleed was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shell.” Mikey breathed, noting the blood for the first time. Don followed the trail up Mike’s limb, finding the hole in his upper arm. He turned his brother’s arm over, inspecting it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that hurt?” He asked, watching his brother’s expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” Mikey replied honestly. When Don gave his brother a credulous look, Mikey defended himself. “Dude, I didn’t even notice I was shot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must be the adrenaline.” Donatello mumbled as he retrieved gauze from one of his pouches. “We need to stop the bleeding, it’s hard to tell how much you lost already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nuh-uh!” Mikey retorted, snatching both the gauze and the phone from his brother’s grip. “Not until you’re cleared Doc.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello resigned himself reluctantly, too tired to force Mikey to listen. “Go ahead nurse Michael.” Mike swept the light over Donatello’s form, his arms held out for Mikey to inspect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing too bad.” Mikey said to himself as he noticed the similar cuts and nicks on his brother’s body. Mikey laughed as Don squinted against the light, snatching his hand away as he tried to shield himself. “Gotta inspect your head too bro.” Donatello turned around, feeling a little too much like he was modeling an outfit rather than being inspected for wounds. He felt Mikey’s hand on his shell, stopping his movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa,” Mikey said seriously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, what is it?” He felt his brother’s fingers glide over a spot on his carapace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re one lucky turtle, dude. One of the bullets went straight through the edge of your shell!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.” Donatello felt like he should be more shocked at the revelation, but he just felt...indifferent. Like they were talking about someone else. He turned back around, lowering his hands as he looked at Mikey. “Done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost.” Mikey lowered the light to Don’s legs. For a moment they both just stared, their brains processing the information.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood covered Don’s upper thigh. Mikey crouched, inspecting it with the light. “How did you not notice?” He demanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello blinked down at him. “How did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>not notice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrenaline?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrenaline.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey looked back at the hole in his brother’s thigh. “Good news though, it’s a through and through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello hummed. “That’s more than I can say about yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw man.” Mikey sighed. Taking the fragments out would be a bitch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello caught his brother glancing at the phone. “Anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey shook his head, “Still no service out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Donatello searched the area, looking for a tree or high ridge they could use. “Let’s get patched up and keep moving before they find us. Once the adrenaline wears off, it’ll be difficult to move let alone think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey began unraveling the gauze, wrapping it around his brother’s leg as tight as he could. He kept his eyes trained on his work, though his words were directed up at his brother. “Do you think we’ll find him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello was silent. Weighing his response. Truthfully, his mind was constantly calculating the odds of success, which dwindled the longer they were out here. But the brother in him refused to listen. Donatello had seen enough unexplainable stuff in his life that sometimes, you just had to say ‘screw it’ to science. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry Mikey,” Donatello replied softly. “We’ll find him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey ripped the gauze off, tying it tightly on the wound. “Do you think Raph’s back yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably.” Donatello replied, Casey and Raphael had gone out to get dinner for them, taking the truck into town. They had managed to send a message out to their brother back when they had signal, but after almost an hour with no response, Don was certain the hothead had left his cell back at the farmhouse. Don shifted on his leg, testing the wound. It pulled but seemed okay, there was still enough adrenaline in his system to dullen his pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright Mikey, your turn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey stood, passing him the gauze. As he held his arm out for his brother, they heard a soft noise in the distance. Both turtles paused, listening for it again. After a moment the sound returned, slightly louder. It echoed in through the trees, the eerie howl intertwining with the wind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dogs.” Donatello whispered. “They’re using hunting dogs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw shell.” Mikey hunched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both stared at each other, dreading another confrontation so soon after the last. They didn’t have time for this. Finally, deciding now was the time to act, the turtles took off in a run again. Don pulled out his bo, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to outrun them forever. Don wasn’t sure they’d be able to fight them all off if it came to a head, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. Never had he missed the endless winding allies and tall skyscrapers so much in his life. He had no idea how woodland creatures survived their whole lives out here safe from predators.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Don’s leg injury finally started catching up with him, causing him to quickly fall behind his brother. Although the wrappings helped staunch the blood flow, it decreased his mobility. Don hobbled, gritting his teeth as each step shot pain through his leg. He gambled a glance back, taking his eyes off the path just long enough to see if the dogs were gaining on them. Something snapped against him, causing him to cry out involuntarily. At first it was in surprise, but as he tumbled into the gritty dirt, his ankle twisted painfully against the force on his leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don!” Mikey whirled around at the outcry, picking out his brother some meters back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello tried to move, but whatever had his leg refused to budge. The grip was so strong and sharp, it felt like his ankle was in the maw of a wild beast. Every movement was agony. He heard Mikey’s footsteps crunching on the forest floor as he made his way back towards his brother. Don peered down, trying to see what in the world his leg had gotten caught on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t see, there were too many trees blocking out the moonlight to get a good enough light source. He grabbed for his shell cell, only to realize that Mikey still carried it. His fingers dug into the dirt as he whimpered, his other hand traveling down to feel the object. It was wet against his fingers. He heard Mikey call to him to hang on as he slid beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand shook as he traveled further down his leg, a cold metallic feel greeting him. He cried out again as he shifted, feeling the pull of it in his flesh. “Wha-what is it?” He asked Mikey, unable to keep the higher pitch of panic from his voice. Mikey stumbled with the shell cell, cursing as he sought the button on the side. Once the light turned on, Mikey moved it to his brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey’s sharp inhale did not reassure Donatello. He glanced back down, noting the blinding gleam from the light against the metal. A bear trap. Don groaned, his hands shaking as he inspected it. Blood soaked his foot, the skin torn and flayed around the teeth. He tried to remain calm as he searched for the release mechanism. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D-Don, what should I do?” Mikey asked, his voice slightly breaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help me pull the clamp back.” Don pulled at the jaws, the angle making it difficult to get a proper hold on the metal without aggravating his wound further. Mikey mimicked his brother, hissing as the pull on his arm sent a sharp pain through his right side. They managed to slide it back enough to pull the teeth out of Don’s leg, the motion causing him to cry out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Mikey cried. He knew it had to be done, but it didn’t make hearing his brother in pain any easier. Mikey’s arms shook with the effort, the rusted trap’s springs proving more stubborn than originally thought. He could hear the dog’s barks growing closer, causing his adrenaline to surge back to life. “Don, they’re almost here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Don hissed, feeling suddenly light headed. His grip faltered, causing the trap to slightly close again. Mikey yelled at him to stay with it, his voice desperate. Don tried to pull against the trap again, but his grip was too weak. “I can’t.” Don panted, his brows furrowing as he looked at his brother with regret. “Mike, you have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Mikey screeched, his eyes blown wide. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not leaving you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Don placed a shaky hand on his brother’s arm, trying to still his brother’s renewed vigor as he pushed against the steel. “Mike, listen to me. There’s a good chance they’ll bring me to where they’re keeping Leo. You just need to follow me there. Then you can go get Raph and save us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Mikey yelled, shaking his head at his brother’s words. “I’m not leaving you! What if they kill you? What if they shoot you first?” Mikey kept his eyes squeezed shut, begging the trap to release his brother to him before the madness continued. He felt his brother’s grip on his arm grow stronger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mikey, please. Look at me.” Against Mikey’s better judgement, he did. “They’ll get us both if you don’t, then who’ll save us? I can’t outrun them like this. We can’t hide, the dogs have our scent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before his brother could reply however, he heard men’s voices from behind them, yelling to their companions over the revving of their vehicle.  The four-wheeler bounded out from the side, its lights blinding Mikey as it slid to a stop. By the time Mikey acted, he was already caught. A heavy force wrapped itself around him, tangling him into a heap on the ground. His shoulder pulled painfully, twisting uncomfortably underneath his shell. He struggled against it for a moment, before seeing the gun trained at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunting dogs snarled and barked as they descended on them. Don himself felt surprisingly terrified to see the black mass of muscle and gleaming teeth running full force at him. He swung his bo at it, knocking one to the ground with a startled yelp. The other however, got too close to sweep the bo back. It launched itself at Don’s forearm, tugging it back over his head. The motion pulled against the bear trap on his leg, making Donatello scream in pain. He used his other hand to hit the dog’s face. The dog however, refused to release its prey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brother’s scream spurred Michelangelo into action. He swung around, using his shuriken to break free of the rope net. Using the ends of the rope, he grasped the shotgun, twisting it out of the man’s grip. It sailed overhead. Mikey twisted around, knocking the man into the driver with a roundhouse kick to the chest. They stumbled over each other onto the ground. Mikey was on them in an instant, knocking them out before they recovered. With both men unconscious, Mikey was able to turn his attention back to his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could make it over, two more hunting dogs flanked him. Michelangelo brought out his nunchuck, spinning it in their direction. As he swung at the one to his left, it jumped back, snarling. The one to his right however, ducked under the weapon, latching onto his arm. It pulled him back, causing him to fall to the ground. The second dog took the opportunity to lung at his prone form. Mikey yelped, bringing his nunchuck down upon the beast. With a sharp cry it fell. And soon after did its companion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey cradled his bleeding arm as he called out to his brother with a shaky voice. “Don are you alright?” Mikey peered in the darkness of the forest floor, searching for the shadowy form of his brother. A ways off he heard a sharp cry, a thump, and a response, a bit too weak for Mikey’s liking. “Hold on bro, I’m coming.” Mikey jumped onto the four-wheeler, turning the headlight in the direction of his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello laid prone on the forest floor, sweat, blood, and leaves clinging to his skin. With the light from the vehicle, Mikey was able to make out the pained expression on his brother’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on Don. I’ll get you out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello didn’t have the energy to respond, so he simply closed his eyes and focused on breathing. All of his senses felt fried, like he was on a bed of buzzing wires. He didn’t even care about where he was anymore, he was so exhausted he could sleep right there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don, Donnie wake up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello opened his eyes, realizing that he was now sitting up, staring at his bandaged leg. Don squinted at the sight, mumbling to himself. “T-That was fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey gazed at him for a moment, his mouth parting. He placed his brother’s good arm around his shoulder as he hoisted him up. “It wasn’t. You passed out. Not that I blame you, it was pretty nasty. But you really scared me, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello tried to look at his brother, his head felt heavy. “Thanks for...coming back, Mikey.” He caught his brother’s smile as he shifted most of Don’s weight onto himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you Donnie, I’m not leaving you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are we going to…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey smiled, motioning to the bright light in front of them. “Did you forget? We have a brand new ride, given to us by those lovely locals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello chuckled, allowing himself to be half carried over to the four-wheeler. Don shifted his legs, keeping them together at the side as he held on to his brother’s shell. As Mikey looked about the vehicle, Donatello asked, slightly worried. “Do you know how to drive one of these?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey pulled the break lever off, causing the vehicle to lurch forward. “It can’t be that hard, I mean we’ve flown space ships before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello yelped, holding on for dear life as the vehicle took off with impressive speed. With this thing, they actually managed to have a chance at getting back. With the ease of driving, and the light it provided, it didn’t take long to find the dirt road the countrymen used. Up ahead they could see the light from the house, the men’s shouts loud enough to be heard from over the four-wheeler’s engine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey navigated the vehicle around, turning the head lights off so it wouldn’t alert the men. Don and Mike peered around the bushes, watching them. A huddle of six men of various sizes littered the area by the backbed of their truck. Large metal cages lined the bed. They wore hunting gear, brown camouflage patterns sported on each jacket, whose thickness was only rivaled by their country accents. Each of them wielded a gun. Some had rifles, others shotguns, one even had a hunting bow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are they doing?” Donatello whispered, straining to see around his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks like they’re loading the truck.” Mikey guessed. Suddenly they heard them hollering, a few whistled as three more hunters exited the house. They jerked about, a tether wrapped in their grip. Mikey watched in horror as his brother was led out from the old single level home. He was bound in chains, thick cords from the hunter’s leads looped around his neck. Mikey could see the irritation, the disgust on Leo’s face as he ineffectively fought against his captors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear the man commenting on his brother as they continued to fight Leo’s resistance, their feet slightly sliding in the muddy path to the truck. “He sure is a feisty one! Still can’t believe this thing is real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the other men chuckled, slapping the metal side of the truck as he replied. “Jan’ll be mighty pleased when she sees this thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another cracked open his beer with a hiss as he agreed. “Still not sure if we should sell it, eat it, or stuff it and hang him on our wall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikey’s heart dropped. He felt Don’s hand on his shoulder. Turning back, he saw Don’s head shake. There were too many, they had to be smart about what they did, no matter how badly they wanted to simply rush in there and get Leo away from them. Both turtle’s attention snapped back as they heard a cry. Leonardo had dropped to the floor, using the slack in the lead’s wire to lunge back, taking out one of the men with a swift kick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joe, he’s active! Hit him again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man dropped his beer onto the truck, pulling out his gun with a curse. He trained it on the massive turtle as Leo fought against the two other hunters. The first dart missed, sinking into the earth below, the second landed snugly in Leo’s thigh. It took another excruciatingly long minute before he fell. Leo breathed hard as the two men held him tight, his knees sinking into the dirt as the men lowered him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit, do you know how heavy this thing weighs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop bitchin and help me get him into the truck.” The larger man yelled as he waved them off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donatello and Mikey watched as several of the hunters helped heft their brother onto the bed. Mikey gripped the handlebar tightly, gritting his teeth as he tried to be patient. While the men were too busy manhandling their weakened brother, they wouldn’t be able to fire their guns. It was a good opportunity to take them by surprise. Mikey tensed as he started the engine up, signaling to Donatello to hold on tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were going to ram them.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the cliffhanger! This prompt already became way too long, the stories are only supposed to be around 1-2k words each...which I keep breaking.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Following Orders</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>At what point do we supersede our authority? Whenever that is, it is a bittersweet revelation.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The chains dangled and clinked together in the small space. The groaning of the linked metal echoed against the cold damp walls as the man’s weight shifted. He allowed himself to breathe in as deeply as his lungs would allow before peering up at his captors. They stood, staring at him. Neither creature moved. He could hear the swishing of the rat’s tail underneath his robe. After a moment, it moved in close, whiskers nearly brushing against his sweating face. </p><p>“It need not be like this,” Splinter stated. “Just tell us where it is, and this needless suffering can end.” </p><p>Donatello stood behind the metal desk, silent and solemn. His father’s words were open, yet authoritative. Still commanding respect despite the gentle implications. The man looked between them, his lips parted just enough for a string of saliva mixed with blood to trail downwards towards the floor. Donatello counted each creak of the chains. After twenty more, the man finally spoke. He cleared his throat, becoming Splinter closer. </p><p>His eyes were half lidded, his body slightly slumped as he struggled to keep weight on his toes as they danced for purchase against the stone floor. Splinter moved in closer, his ear twitching in anticipation. As soon as Splinter did however, the man spit on him, the nasty glob matting the fur near his eye. Splinter growled, reeling back as he whipped the mess onto the sleeve of his robe. His ears pinned back. His tail thumped against the ground. </p><p>Splinter turned sharply to Donatello, waving his hand at the turtle. Silently, Donatello flipped the switch, staring at the board in front of him as the electricity seized the man’s body. After another moment, Donatello shut it off, looking back up to his father. As soon as the electricity faded, Splinter surged forward, grabbing the man by the jaw. He forced him to make eye contact, his growl of warning sending chills through everyone present.</p><p>“You are a fool to take advantage of my kindness!” Splinter hissed. He dropped his hand, swiveling around to return to his son’s side. From behind him he could hear the man’s laughter. Splinter looked over his shoulder, absentmindedly stroking his beard as he watched. The man swung back, seemingly unphased by the torture as he smiled. </p><p>“Stop kidding yourself, you washed up rodent. No one fears the Foot anymore, let alone you.” Despite his injuries, the man continued to laugh to himself, shaking his head as he did so.</p><p>Donatello eyed his father, who’s ear twitched in annoyance. Without another word, he motioned for Don to go again. He did so. This time Don could hear the man’s voice hitch as the volts tore through his body. He wished one of them would give up. A moment longer than he intended passed, and Don hastily turned off the machine, cursing himself. </p><p>Splinter paced in front of the man. Don could see the gears in his mind starting to move, and knew a decision was being made. It was hard to predict his father’s actions, but his next question provided enough insight.</p><p>“Donatello, what time is it now?”</p><p>Donatello glanced at his PDA, quickly noting that they were now at the five hour mark. “There’s not much time left, father.”</p><p>Splinter nodded, stroking his beard again. He turned back to the man, who was enjoying a moment of rest. “Set it higher.” Splinter commanded, eyes still locked on their prisoner.</p><p>Donatello complied, turning the knob upwards before he switched it on. The man’s eyes shot open as he writhed. The chains clinked together loudly, the buzz of electricity now audible. As soon as the current shut off, the man heaved in air. His shaggy black locks clung to his face, now red from the exertion. </p><p>“Again.” Splinter commanded, refusing the man a moment of reprieve. Donatello pushed the button, trying not to listen to the gargled noise emanating from their prisoner’s throat. </p><p>“Again.” Splinter commanded. Again. Again. Again.</p><p>Finally Donatello froze. He stared at the man, his gaze was unfocused, his eyes bloodshot. He no longer attempted to hold himself up. When the electricity refused to appear, Splinter turned to his son. Donatello stared at him, unsure how to say what he felt.</p><p>“M-Maybe we should allow him a moment-”</p><p>“Allow?” Splinter spat. “Every moment of kindness we have shown has been spit back into our faces. If he will not appreciate what has been given to him, then he shall be stripped of it in order to see it’s worth!”</p><p>Donatello clamped his mouth shut, recognizing the all-knowing tone. Don huffed, steeling himself. He dipped his head, knowing his place. His eyes, however, shot back up at his father’s words. </p><p>“Higher.”</p><p>Slowly, Donatello moved the dial up, deciding to time each interval carefully if his father was going to continue to teeter on this dangerous line. Splinter circled the man, allowing him to breathe after such a painful bout. Splinter’s cane tapped against the stone as he walked, the eerie sound almost alienating the prisoner. </p><p>“Have you no sense of honor? These innocent people your so called gang has sought to hurt, they are merely children.” Splinter tried to reason.</p><p>The man swallowed a few times, regaining his composure. “An’ here I thought you’d understand, being a sewer rat, that life’s not fair. Morals are for the privileged. It’s as simple as that.”</p><p>Splinter considered the man. For a moment Don thought he might let him free, but as quickly as that thought came, so did Splinter’s cane. “Such utter lack of rights!” A bone cracked as the hardy wood made contact with the man’s knee. “Comparing the two of us? Where compassion should be, you harbor nothing but greed and hostility!” Another thwack to the back, then to the ribs. Finally Splinter retreated from the man, his face a mixture of anger and disappointment. He shook his head, taking in a deep breath as he moved beside his son, yelling to him. </p><p>“Turn it on full.”</p><p>Donatello flinched, taking a moment to lean down, his voice a whisper. “Father, please, he’s had enough-”</p><p>“Donatello!” Splinter yelled so loudly that Donatello physically stepped back. Splinter’s eyes were hard, determined. “I may be your father, but I am your master first. You <em> will </em>do as you’re told!”</p><p>Donatello shut his mouth, ignoring the fluttering mix of emotions as he moved an unsure hand towards the knob. Every level the knob passed made the nausea inside him double. He turned back to his father, his eyes silently pleading with him to end this. He watched Splinter move towards the prisoner again.</p><p>“Stop this nonsense, there is still time for you to redeem yourself. Somewhere inside you there must be a part that knows what you’re doing is wrong!”</p><p>The man craned his neck up, his lazy expression ensuring a reaction. “When are you going to get it through your pea-sized brain, old man, that I just don’t give a shit.”</p><p>From behind, Donatello watched as the muscles in his father’s shoulders contracted. He couldn’t see it, but he was sure his jaw was clenched as well. His patience was running out. He waved his hand again, signaling Donatello to begin the next wave of shocks.</p><p>“Master Splinter, I don’t think anything will come from this, he’s already all but proven that he won’t-”</p><p>“Enough!” Splinter commanded, turning on his heel towards the turtle. “I did not ask for your wisdom Donatello, nor is it needed! Have you forgotten the children who were taken from their homes? What may come of them?”</p><p>“N-No.” Donatello stuttered.</p><p>“Perhaps you need a reminder, of the lives they are destined to live because of this man and his conspirators?” Splinter sarcastically asked. “Would you like to let him go, give him a pat on the head, and give up on those children?”</p><p>“No!” Donatello replied angrily. </p><p>“Then you will do as I say!”</p><p>Donatello grit his teeth, pressing the button before his conscious could fight him any further. Splinter nodded, returning to his son’s side. Quiet, yet cold, his words weighed heavy on Donatello’s heart. </p><p>“I once found your kindness a virtue, my son. But there is no place for it here.”</p><p>Donatello hardened himself as he watched the man grind his teeth together. His eyes rolled back, body flinching uncontrollably as he administered shock after shock. Donatello felt himself grow farther away from that cell during each moment of reprieve, allowing them both a moment before Splinter ordered him again. </p><p>And again.</p><p>And again.</p><p>“There you are.” Leonardo greeted. He climbed up the rung, smiling as he came across his brother. Donatello sat at the edge of the rooftop, staring up into the expansive nothingness above. “Everyone’s been wondering where you’ve been.” Leo sat down beside his brother, taking in the look on Don’s face. Don’s eyes were heavy and hollow, his expression slightly confused. Leo placed a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder, his voice quiet as he noted the emotion. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” He asked softly. </p><p>Don’s brows furrowed further, causing him to blink a few times. He swallowed slowly, refusing to move his gaze from the black sky. His voice was but a whisper, hoarse and thick. Leo couldn’t catch what he said, but the way his eyes start to glisten and tear up, he knew it was serious. Finally, the croaking became audible, and Leo’s heart sank.</p><p>“I-I killed him…” He whispered, his own voice surprised at what he said. “I-I killed him Leo, oh god, I’ve never…” Whatever words Don followed up with are lost in the tumbling hiccups. All Leo can do is crush him in a hug, rocking him as Don continued to blabber on incoherently into his shoulder, praying to keep the crushing weight of guilt far from him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those of you who haven't read the IDW TMNT, Splinter at one point becomes the head of the Foot, and his actions are...increasingly questionable. I really love that characterization and I wish more Splinters were a bit morally gray. </p><p>Sorry this was more angsty than suspenseful.</p>
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